


Found Something In The Woods Somewhere

by houxvertetbruyere



Series: Kitsune [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Enthusiastic Consent, Fluff, Harm to Animals, Hermit Leonard McCoy, I keep setting out to do porn and end up with domestic fluff, Kitsune, M/M, Mild Gore, Non-Human James T. Kirk, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26985286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houxvertetbruyere/pseuds/houxvertetbruyere
Summary: "When a fox is fifty years old, it can transform itself into a woman; when a hundred years old, it becomes a beautiful female, or a spirit medium, or an adult male who has sexual intercourse with women. Such beings are able to know things at more than a thousand miles' distance; they can poison men by sorcery, or possess and bewilder them, so that they lose their memory and knowledge; and when a fox is thousand years old, it ascends to heaven and becomes a celestial fox."Guo Pu (276–324)Trektober Day 12 - Supernatural Beings
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Series: Kitsune [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969441
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33
Collections: Trektober 2020





	Found Something In The Woods Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> I messed around with Kitsune lore, for any die hard Japanese Mythology fans out there don't be mad.
> 
> part 2 is tomorrow
> 
> This is the cabin I imagined Leonard living in but the time period is very much up to you:   
> https://moviewriternyu.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/cabin2.jpg

"When a fox is fifty years old, it can transform itself into a woman; when a hundred years old, it becomes a beautiful female, or a spirit medium, or an adult male who has sexual intercourse with women. Such beings are able to know things at more than a thousand miles' distance; they can poison men by sorcery, or possess and bewilder them, so that they lose their memory and knowledge; and when a fox is thousand years old, it ascends to heaven and becomes a celestial fox." Guo Pu (276–324)

Leonard held the rabbit with careful strong hands. Its heart pattered so quickly he could feel it through his leather gloves. With one quick turn of his wrist he snapped its neck, no use drawing out its terror. It went into the sack at his waist and he quickly reset the cage trap before heading down the path to check the next one.

The day was bitterly cold, the sun had risen but stayed behind thick clouds. There was an eeriness to the forest when it was this dark at mid morning. Leonard made haste. He wanted to be back at his cabin reading by the fire as soon as possible.

The next trap on his route was empty. He checked the bait was still in place and continued on his way.

An amount of dried herbs hung from the beams of his kitchen. He tried to remember how much sage was left, or wild marjoram, for seasoning the pheasant and the rabbit he had caught so far. There would still be turnips and potatoes in the cold cellar for a stew but no pork fat left with which to flavor them. The winter had been longer this year than in years past. He couldn’t remember such cold still reigning in the second week of March. Probably he should just muster up some courage and go into town for supplies. 

Lost in thought, he didn’t see the animal cowering in this trap until he was upon it. He should have noticed sooner. The animal’s red coat was still remarkable, dingy and matted with dried blood as it was. The fox panted and pressed itself into the metal at the back of the trap as Leonard crouched down to examine it.

A fletched arrow protruded from the creature’s thigh. It had bled no small amount. There were streaks of iron-colored dried blood on the snow in the bottom of the trap. The fox’s mouth was smeared with it. Gnaw marks ran up and down the arrow’s shaft. 

He hadn’t practiced medicine in years, not since his family… well. It had been some years. But he knew immediately the wound needed tending to. Were he to pull the arrow free and set the animal loose it would be easy pickings for a falcon or a cougar. 

Damn his internal oath to do no harm.

Leonard sighed heavily. This was, technically, the reason he used these cage traps. He hated to kill animals he wouldn’t eat. Death without reason was the worst offence Leonard could fathom.

Slowly, telegraphing his movements, Leonard released the spring on his trap. His gloves would protect him from a bite but he didn’t want to chance a runner. 

“Hey there fella,” he said to the fox. “I don’t wanna hurt you, I promise. I’m a doctor, you see? I can take that damn arrow outta your leg and get you feelin’ better in no time. But only if you’ll let me.”

The fox blinked twice and Leonard startled. The creature’s golden brown eyes had been, for a brief moment, bright blue. No, he thought, no that can’t be right. It blinked again and tilted its head, apparently regarding him.

“Uh, I’m gonna take you by your scruff, now,” he told the fox, “and carry you back to my home. I don’t wanna put any pressure on your leg. Please don’t struggle, okay? You’ll just lose more blood than you can afford.”

The fox seemed to narrow its eyes at him, ducking its head away when he went for it but it let him get a grip on its scruff without much resistance. It did yelp as the arrow shaft hit the opening of the trap and Leonard winced.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

The trip back to his cabin was a blur. The fox was so light in his grasp. He couldn’t imagine it was more than a year old. It must have been born last winter. The thing’s ribs were plain even under its fluffy pelt. There were burrs in its tail. 

Perhaps it would let Leonard take a brush to it later, he mused and then quickly banished the thought. This was a wild animal. It would run back into the forest as soon as Leonard deemed it unlikely to bleed to death.

“Okay, here we are. Home sweet home. I’ve gotta get the fire a bit hotter so I can heat some water.” He had probably been alone too long. It was too easy to slip into surgery prep mode even with no nurses to dictate to. 

He nudged a large cardboard box over onto its side, clearing the few medical textbooks it had contained with his foot. He set the fox carefully inside. It did little more than whine and look at him. Hopefully that was a good sign, he’d never dealt with this type of patient before.

He unbuckled the game bags from his belt and threw them on the counter. He’d pluck the pheasant for himself later. The rabbit might end up being fed to his patient.

Leonard’s medical kit was tucked in the back of his closet, the sterilizing alcohol was under the bathroom sink. He got a few clean rags from his linens and a few clean shirts too worn to keep wearing. Once the pot of water on the wood stove started to steam it took him less than ten minutes to set up his little emergency surgery station. 

He barely noticed himself narrating all the way.

Getting the fox to the pile of shirts on the table went better than expected. So well, in fact, that he thought the blood loss must have been greater than it seemed at first. The fox had gone completely docile. 

But as he examined the fox on his table, the fox examined him back. He had to admit it looked alert. Something in its eyes conveyed curiosity, maybe even bemusement. It cocked its head when Leonard told it “this might sting” before injecting local anesthetic. It whined pitifully but stayed still as Leonard pulled the arrowhead out with forceps. The fox even sighed as he applied antibiotic to the wound and bandaged its leg. Like it knew the torture was almost over.

Maybe Leonard had been isolated too long. He should definitely make the trip to town soon.

Still, as he tried to gentle the fox back into the cardboard box, it grabbed one of his shirts in its jaws and wouldn’t let go. He had to promise to remake the nest on the bottom of the box before it would let itself be moved.

Adorable as that was it also had to be damn unnatural.

After he washed up the blood and sterilized his instruments once again he set about butchering the rabbit. It wasn’t very large but he could feed a small thing like this fox for a few days on it, easily. It would probably eat his vegetable peelings, too, now that he thought about it.

The fat hindquarter of the rabbit went into a metal bowl and into the box. He'd refill it with water when the fox was done eating.

Lunch for Leonard was a hunk of bread with jam and a stiff coffee. Supper would be stew. 

When he went into the cellar to start on the stew a few hours later he was amazed to discover a package of salt pork and a few firm apples tucked away that he couldn’t account for. Maybe he’d purchased them on his last supply run in December but he certainly didn’t remember doing so.

He wasn't ungrateful for them, though. In a cold and miserable mountain pass he'd learned to treat life's little pleasures with respect 

He fed half of one apple to the fox, pleased to see it had an appetite.

Belly full and content with his odd company, he spent the rest of the evening reading aloud by the fire. 

-+-

Leonard woke up some time later with a crick in his neck. He had fallen asleep in the chair by the fire and it was dark in the house now.

At first he couldn’t fathom what had woken him. Usually he tried not to fall asleep out in front of the fire because he had a habit of sleeping through the night and waking with an awful cold stiffness through his whole body.

The sound of running water from the bathroom made him jump.

The water turning off made him panic. No one even lived nearby for miles.

Leonard dashed to the front door for his rifle. The bathroom door opened and footsteps padded down the hall. Leonard panted and pressed his back to the wall. The footsteps came closer, closer.

He whirled around with his rifle pointed right at… an incredibly handsome man wearing Leonard’s sleep pants and nothing else. What in the hell? 

“What the fuck are you doin’ in my house?” Leonard growled.

The man just- blinked at him and tilted his head. Leonard suddenly noticed the color of his eyes. A mesmerizing bright blue that was so hauntingly familiar Leonard got lost for a moment. He cocked his rifle, aimed at the man’s shoulder. The man didn’t even flinch.

“I said who the _hell_ are you and what the _fuck_ are you doin’ in my house?” He gritted out. His hands were steady, his aim true, but he was incredibly put off by the sight of this goddamn shirtless blonde Adonis standing in his living room, wearing his clothes. All soft skin and gently define muscles.

“If you don’t answer in five seconds I’ll shoot. It won’t kill you but it’ll hurt like a bitch.”

“Easy tiger, no need for violence. My name is James Tiberius,” the man replied, smiling slowly. “And you are Leonard Horatio McCoy. You brought me into your house to quote _take that damn arrow out of my leg_ and you did a marvelous job. Which I’d like to thank you for.” 

He took a step closer.

Leonard pulled the trigger.

The click of the hammer and then _silence_. Nothing happened. 

“What the fuck?” Leonard swung open the chamber. It was empty. The whole seven-round magazine was empty. “What in the-”

“Leonard,” the man said softly. He took the gun from Leonard’s hands with surprising strength. “You wouldn’t want to shoot someone you just healed, would you?”

Leonard gaped at him, stunned.

“Here, I’ll prove to you I am who I say I am and that you brought me here yourself.” The man, James, set the gun down against the wall and tugged down the waistband of his pants. A pink scar the length of a fingertip sat puckered in the meat of the man’s thigh.

“I know, I know,” the man said, hands up in a placating gesture. “I heal fast, but I can’t heal or transform around an obstruction and so you really did save my life. If I had picked the wrong human’s trap or if someone had come along before you and found me I would be dead now. Like I said, I’m terribly grateful and I want to thank you properly.”

The man tilted his head again and grinned wickedly. Something about his teeth caught Leonard’s attention. They were shiny white and much too sharp in his plush pink mouth. Sort of… canine.

“Oh Christ, I’m dreaming,” Leonard muttered. “I’m dreaming or I’ve lost it for good.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the man chuckled. “You’re the most grounded human I’ve ever met. But maybe we should get you to bed. And not in the way I really want to right now. I need you well rested to truly show you my gratitude.”

The man's eyes lowered, dark, and focused on Leonard’s mouth. A dirty smile bloomed across his face.

-+-

When Leonard awoke the next morning he spent a long moment staring at the ceiling and then chuckled to himself. 

This had to be a textbook case of neurotic loneliness- dreaming the wild animal you brought home transformed into a gorgeous half dressed man overnight. He’d go into town tomorrow, chat with the shopkeeper, get some real human contact and stop having such strange sexually-charged dreams.

He ignored his morning wood, dressed, washed his face and went to the kitchen to check on the little fox.

He stopped short at the sight that greeted him. 

The gorgeous man from his dreams, still dressed in Leonard’s sleep pants now with a worn shirt on top, was cooking something at his stove.

Leonard sagged against the wall and rubbed at his eyes. This didn't bode well.

“You’re really here aren’t you?”

“Morning Doc,” the man said cheerily. “Humans eat pancakes in the morning, yes? I’ve been trying to replicate them here but I don’t read English yet.”

Leonard peered over at the stove between his fingers. Something, maybe porridge, was burning on his griddle.

“Oh hell, what are you doin’ over here?” He grumbled, pushing his way in front of the stove. A recipe book was propped on the counter and open to Fluffy Buckwheat Flapjacks and bearing a series of illustrations describing the process. He looked at the blackened mess burning to his griddle again, was that… cornmeal? It smelled awful.

He wrapped the handle of the pan in a towel and dropped it into the sink, running the water over it immediately. It sizzled and sputtered.

“Where did you even get the ingredients for this?” He asked, looking around the counter where measuring cups and mixing bowls he hadn't touched since moving up here were covered in various powders and liquids. Egg shells oozed onto the counter top. How in the hell- he had run out of fresh eggs a month ago.

The blonde man was pouting when Leonard looked away from the mess. 

“Well, like I said Leonard, I haven’t learned to read English yet but I've seen the television, I know you humans like pancakes with coffee and bacon in the morning. I wanted to make your meal before you woke up.” He pointed, still pouting, to the recipe book’s cartoon of children bringing pancakes to their mother in bed.

Leonard groaned.

“And why would you do something like that?”

“To thank you, of course. You saved my life.”

“I don’t- look, what was your name again?” Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose.

“James Tiberius,” the man grinned.

“Alright, Jim, look, I don’t need you to thank me for- wait a minute- where's the damn fox?” The cardboard box he had left in front of the fireplace yesterday was gone. The shirts Leonard had used for the thing’s nest were hanging over the back of his chair. All except for one which- oh hell, which James was wearing. The thin cotton stretched across his muscular shoulders enticingly.

“Leonard,” the man said brightly, putting a hand on Leonard’s shoulder. “I am the fox, I’ve told you this already. I can transform back and forth between bodies- I’m a Kitsune.”

“Ah, I see,” Leonard said casually, “so you’re a head case. Listen I didn’t specialize in psychology but I still have a few contacts in the field. Let me dig out my Rolodex and maybe we can get you to a professional, how’s that sound?”

James just laughed. It was clear and deep and Leonard warmed at the sound of it.

“Alright, I see you’re going to be tough to convince so I’ll just show you.”

Leonard crossed his arms and raised a brow. The _this outta be good_ posture, his Ma used to say.

Standing directly in front of Leonard with a smug smile James sort of- shivered. Then shuddered and then- disappeared. Or rather, on the spot where a grown man had just stood was a pile of clothes and a small lump moving underneath.

Okay, Leonard needed to sit down. Somehow he just knew, without needing to look, that the small lump wriggling out from under his old shirt was going to be the fox.

Sure enough it poked its fluffy head out, looked up at him with wide blue human eyes and yipped.

“Oh Christ.” Leonard collapsed down into his chair and dropped his head into his hands. This could not be happening. Right? This was insane. Leonard couldn’t possibly be insane, though, could he? People who had lost their minds didn’t wonder if they were crazy, did they?

There was a rustle nearby, a creak of floorboards, and footsteps shuffled closer. James was human-ish, again and dressed thank god. His face was all concern as he crouched in front of Leonard.

“Are you alright? Was it too much of a shock? My friend Uhura is always telling me I need to work on my subtlety."

Leonard batted him away. 

"I need some damn coffee before I can talk to you about this." He grumbled.

James brightened visibly

"Oh, I made some already! I'll bring it to you, just stay right here."

"I'll just bet you did," he grumbled.

The coffee, of course, was terrible so he put the kettle on and while he was at it, remade breakfast. He discovered he had everything he needed for pancakes and he didn't want to look at that too closely or he might run out of his home screaming into the cold winter morning.

James sat at the small kitchen table looking sad and pathetic until Leonard gave him the task of cleaning dishes. They worked together in the kitchen, James humming a song Leonard didn't know, and soon breakfast was ready and the counters were clean.

James seemed happiest doing something, anything that would make Leonard happy so after eating breakfast (James did NOT like coffee but he ate more than half of the bacon and drank all of his orange juice) they did the laundry. Then they checked and reset the traps, James back in his fox form, a red streak darting between the trees. Before supper they chopped and restacked wood onto the covered porch to keep it dry. 

Supper, much like breakfast, was full of surprise ingredients he didn’t know he had. Two pheasants, caught in his net trap, were quickly plucked and roasted in a pan of squash and carrots and pearl onions. He even showed James how to make a gravy with the drippings. After eating they cleaned the kitchen and collapsed in front of the fire.

When it was time to sleep Leonard hesitated. He only had one bed and no couch. It would be cold and uncomfortable on the hardwood floors. James flew past that whole conversation by trotting into the bedroom in his fox form and curling up at the foot of the bed. The protest died in Leonard’s throat.

The next morning he awoke to find James in the kitchen again, this time attempting to scramble eggs. They actually didn’t look bad, he had used rich fatty butter to grease the pan and the eggs were only a little brown when James plated them. His obvious pleasure at having produced breakfast on his own kept Leonard from commenting on it. James was learning, too, if the way he let Leonard make the coffee from the get-go was any indication.

They worked well together on the rest of the day’s chores. James even found a duster and took to dusting the cabin’s surfaces. Leonard’s home had never felt so… lived in before.

On the third day Leonard went into town. He insisted that although they might not run out of food he had a few books on back order and some tools to get. James refused to go with him but he was cooking a heavenly vegetable barley soup when Leonard returned and he didn’t seem upset by his absence.

It wasn’t until the fifth day, when the day’s chores were done, that Leonard found himself settling onto the floor in front of the fire with a fresh bottle of whiskey. 

"Okay. I've slept on it, I’ve thought on it, I've distracted myself for as long as I could and now I've got liquor if this gets too much to handle. I think it's time for you to answer a few questions.”

James agreed, wrapping himself in one of Leonard’s flannels and sitting near him on the floor. He seemed to be anticipating all of Leonard’s questions before he could even ask them. 

He told Leonard about the story of his people- the ancient forest from whence all life came. He told him how foxes, with their cunning, were the only animals of that forest to retain their clever nature. Yes he was born as a fox. No, they couldn't read minds but they did have supernatural abilities beyond shape-shifting. For instance, they always seemed to have the things they needed but you should never ask how they got them. He told Leonard his people once had many names all over the world but over time only skin-walkers and kitsune prevailed. He said that he was young for his people, that they would live many human lifetimes each.

Apparently young for James meant 57. 

Leonard laughed at that, feeling a bit hysterical. The man looked not a day over 24.

“I can’t believe I can still be shocked by anything from you- you transformed in front of me three times yesterday.”

James smiled at him. A warm eye-crinkling smile. Leonard was suddenly reminded of the dark and dirty smiles from the first night, when he had thought he was dreaming. The heat in those blue eyes, the way a small curl of his lips had made him look hungry.

Leonard looked away and took a draw from the bottle. After a moment where he berated himself for his thoughts James broke the silence.

“You know, in my culture, saving my life means I owe you a lifetime by your side. Often we marry the human who saves us and we are the perfect spouse until the day you die. I know you didn't save me thinking that would happen and it’s an ancient custom- I won’t hold you to it but… I almost wish it was what you wanted from me. I really like being around you, Leonard.” 

Leonard licked the whiskey from his lips and stared into the fire. He weighed all the ways that statement made him feel.

“I like you too kid but you don’t owe me shit. You’re practically an immortal being next to me, I don’t want you to feel obligated-”

James crawled over and perched himself on Leonard's lap in a sinuous, graceful movement. 

“I don't,” he murmured and pressed his plush lips to Leonard’s in a kiss. Leonard’s mind went blank, kissing back was the only thing of importance he could grasp onto. James’ hot tongue swiped out, licking at Leonard’s bottom lip and he groaned. His hands came to hold James’ hips without conscious thought. He huffed in annoyance when James pulled away to say something.

“I figured out on that first night that you wouldn’t accept my thanks in the traditional way. I’ve already conveyed my gratitude. This- this is something I want for myself. Will you let me take you apart Leonard?”

Leonard looked into James’ eyes. The surety and desire in them took his breath away. 

“I’m not completely sure I'm not hallucinatin’ you,” he said. “But I wanna give you the chance to prove you mean it. To take me for yourself.”

James laughed and kissed him again, rocking his hips into Leonard’s, his hard length grinding into Leonard’s stomach.

“Let’s get to the bed first, immortal or no, it’ll hurt my knees to ride you here on the floor.”

Leonard’s weak human heart almost stopped beating.


End file.
